


Peripheral Glances

by dat_heichou



Series: Looking Forward, Living Now [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accusations of Infidelity, M/M, Psychic AU, part of jeanmarco week 2016, there's some mention of jean's past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dat_heichou/pseuds/dat_heichou
Summary: Jean's not entirely sure when his visions started, all he knows is that they're intrusive and alienating.  Catching glimpses of the pasts and futures of other people just make life more complicated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something for Jean's backstory in Looking Forward, Living Now and the past/future prompt for jeanmarcoweek was just so perfect.
> 
> To read more about Marco and Jean together, please read Looking Forward, Living Now. :)

He had always hated hand-me-downs, the way they came pre-worn, drenched in the memories of other people.

He was wearing a tiny sweatshirt with Scooby Doo on it when he tells his mother his frustrations.  It’s not the first time, he’s grumbled about them before, all complains quickly rebutted with “Jeanbo, your cousin barely wore these!  It’s not that bad.”  This time though, his mother can’t soothe his worries as easily.

“This is Joshua’s.”  Jean wrinkled his nose in distaste.  Joshua, his three-year-old cousin, was an especially messy child, always quick to stain every fabric he ever came in contact with.  Despite that, this sweatshirt was clean and unmarred by dirt.

“What do you mean, Jeanbo?  These aren’t from Joshua,” his mother asked, but no matter how many times she insisted that it was new, Jean stubbornly responded, “It’s Joshua’s, it’s Joshua’s,” even though it’s much too large for his tiny cousin. 

Two years later, the sweatshirt ends up in a box to be passed down to Joshua.

* * *

Over the next few years, Jean gradually comes to the realization that his trances aren’t normal.  Other kids don’t get distracted in class by drawings on their desk that were cleaned off years ago.  Other kids don’t get nervous during soccer practice when they touch the ball because they suddenly  _ know _ just how many children have been knocked over by it.  Other people don’t get flashbacks that aren’t theirs.

He asks his mother about it a few times, well, he tries at least.  But it’s hard to word it in a way that she can understand.

“Mama, when you touch things, how do you ignore its memories?”

“Mama, there’s bad memories on that, don’t touch it.  Why are you looking at me like that?”

His mother does her best to comfort him, but she doesn’t quite get it.  Jean gives up on trying to explain it.  He can only take comments on his “imagination” for so long.  When he’s nine, he decides it's not worth talking about anymore, even though the visions are just as prevalent.

* * *

 

Middle school is the worst.  The memories of hormonal preteens are weird and embarrassing and Jean has enough embarrassment of his own.  By the time he turns 11, he’s realized that the images only come from direct contact with the objects involved.  So he buries himself in baggy clothing and refuses to wear shorts in hopes of getting some relief.  It helps limit his visions, but at the same time, he stands out more.

His mother worries, but she comes to believe his anxieties are caused by the new changes to his body.  She insists that these insecurities are pretty normal, that everyone has a hard time feeling comfortable in their own skin as they begin to grow up.  Jean hides his hands in his baggy sweatshirt sleeves when he thinks about how his insecurities aren’t even normal.

Even on the first day of sixth grade, when it's a balmy 95 degrees Fahrenheit, Jean is swamped by his oversized black sweatshirt and thick blue-jeans.  Sweat forms on his skin, but even still, he craves the protection the fabric seems to offer.  Somehow, it's far easier to push the intrusive memories away if they belong to himself.

But his relief doesn’t last for too long.  An eraser pelts his cheek, sending him a fleeting image of a dark-haired boy as he searches through his pencil pouch.  As an isolated incident, Jean would have been able to ignore it.  But more stationery items hit him moments later, each distracting him away from their homeroom teacher’s introduction.

“What on earth is your problem, huh?” Jean blurts out, jerking in his chair to glare at the kid beside him.

“I don’t have a  _ problem _ !  I didn’t do anything!” he exclaims, growling at the word “problem” with alarming distaste.

“You’re throwing things at me!”

“Am not!!”

“Then why is your eraser on my desk, huh?!”

“I don’t know?  And how’d you know it's mine?  Maybe you stole it!!”

“Jean Kirstein, Eren Jaeger.  Principal’s office.  Now.”

* * *

Their first encounter sets the tone for the rest of middle school.  Every time the two boys are in the same room together, they end up clashing.  It only gets worse as Jean develops his first crush.

He doesn’t understand how Eren figured it out.  Even Jean himself wasn’t entirely aware of it, his crush just a casual mixture of awe and the fleeting thoughts of “Mikasa’s so pretty” and “Mikasa’s so smart and athletic.  She’s so  _ cool.” _

So their rivalry can’t help but escalate when Eren shouts, in front of their entire class, “Don’t you dare crush on my sister!! That’s so gross!!”

Jean didn’t know if he wanted to die of embarrassment or kill Eren first.  His only consolation was that both Mikasa and their friend Armin fussed at Eren for making such a scene.  

But in the end, Trost is a very welcome place for gossip.  So there’s no point in subtility if the whole city knows.  So Jean flirts.  He flirts with as many girls as he can, even as they roll their eyes and laugh.  His pride’s already hurt, but if he makes it a game then it’ll hurt less.

He comes out as bi when he’s sixteen.  His mother is as supportive as possible and tells him that he’s always welcome to talk to her about his problems.  He feels a bitter pang in his chest when he thinks about the fact that he only came out because he was tired of keeping secrets from her, and that his sexuality is a far easier topic to approach than his visions.

He flirts even more after that, with a broader range of people.  But he always makes sure to flirt with Mikasa the most, because in a strange way, she’s safe.  He knows how she feels about him and it’s not going to change, no matter how many flowers he gives her for her birthday.

Everyone he knows has known him since they were young.  They remember every embarrassing detail of his adolescence, every social faux pas and every weirdly foreboding statement he’s made.  So flirting doesn’t lead anywhere until Jean’s 17 and meets  _ her.   _

They’re both seniors in high school and she’s on a college visit to Trost U.  Jean laughs and tells her that there’s surely better places to go to college than Trost, and she spends the day asking him about where he thinks those are.  She laughs at his jokes, she smiles at his awkward pick-up lines, and best of all, she looks at him with fresh eyes.

She goes back home and decides that Trost isn’t for her.  But there is one thing she takes with her, Jean’s number.  

When Jean graduates, he saves up enough money to move in with his girlfriend in Sina, where everything is bigger and better than everything he’s seen.  He thinks the day he moves into their shared apartment is the highlight of his life.  

Things are good for a long time and they’re happy together.  They’re kept busy with classes and work, but the time they spend together is happy and relaxed.  Jean doesn’t tell her about the visions, but a little secrecy in a relationship isn’t exactly unheard of, after all.  His mother asks when they’ll come visit, but the last thing Jean wants is to go back.

Two years go by quickly.  

Jean relaxes in their apartment, so his safety measures begin to slip.  One day he comes back aching from work, so he takes a quick shower and only throws on a pair of boxers before he flops into bed.  He closes his eyes to drift to sleep, but images flash behind his eyelids; ones of his beloved wrapped amorously in the arms of another in the very bed they share.

They’ve been together through so much that the awakening hurts.  But Jean doesn’t have more than a few minutes to think about what this vision means because she walks in just then, tired from her own shift at the diner.

So she doesn’t take too kindly when Jean starts flinging accusations at her.  Their fight is harsh and ugly, far worse than anything they’ve ever had before.  

For the first time since they moved in together, Jean finds himself packing his bags to return to Trost, with an associate's degree and disillusions of the big city to keep him company.

When he unpacks in his childhood bedroom he notices that his ex packed away the locket he gave her for her birthday.  She wore it everyday without fail while they were together, but in his vision it was gone.  The boundaries of past and future in his glimpses were always hard for him to distinguish.

“Jeanbo, what would you like for dinner tonight?  I could make one of your favorites, if you want?” his mother asks.  Her happiness to see him is dulled by concern.

“You don’t have to do that Mama, I know I didn’t give you much notice… I can go get pizza.”

As he finds himself at his favorite pizzeria in Trost, he’s only mildly surprised to see that Connie is working behind the counter.  It was his favorite place too, after all.

“Jean, is that you?  I haven’t seen you around Trost in like, two years!”  Connie himself hasn’t changed very much; he’s just as short as ever.  He’s shaved off the mohawk he was so proud of in high school and he’s taken out his eyebrow piercing, but he’s honestly just as warm and familiar as his own home.  Jean would never admit it, but a large part of him is glad to be home, back in Trost.

Not everything is the same though.  Jean can see a stranger lingering at the edge of the counter, obviously waiting for his own order to be prepared.  He wouldn’t have paid much attention, but the wrinkled funeral suit is rather eye-catching.  Plus, Connie’s fleeting glances in the man’s direction seem to indicate that he’s new--a curiosity in Trost.

“Mmmm, yeah I ended up deciding to come back.  Don’t know for how long though.”  As nice as it is to see Connie again, he’s not ready to talk about it yet.  Heck, he didn’t even tell his mother what exactly happened, though she could make her own conclusions when he moved boxes of his stuff back into the garage.  

“Weren’t you dating someone and living together back in Sina?  What happened?” Of course Connie won’t let the topic go easily though.  Jean’s barely contacted his old friends, so they’re bound to have questions.

“Didn’t work out, that’s all,” Jean mumbles, causing Connie to bombard him with even more questions, so many that Jean doesn’t even know where to start in answering them.  Jean opens his mouth to say something, he’s not quite sure what, when the Scratch Off machine beeps in the corner of the room.  They both turn to watch the stranger claim his ticket and Jean can’t help but notice how tall he is as he leans over the counter.

But sadly, Connie won’t be distracted for long and keeps trying to ask questions about what the hell Jean’s been up to for the last two years.

Connie’s just asking how long Jean will stay in town when the stranger clears his throat, catching their attention again.  He slips Connie his ticket, making him laugh at whatever result it reads.

“Looks like we have a big winner here!” He exclaims, wagging his eyebrows before opening the cash register to slam eight quarters down upon the shop counter.

The ridiculousness makes Jean laugh for the first time since he left Sina.  “Really, Connie?  You couldn’t have given the guy two dollar bills?”  He’s still laughing as the stranger hurries to gather his change, knocking the coins onto the floor under the counter.

The guy outright  _ squeaks  _ in embarrassment and it's so absurdly cute that Jean can’t help but laugh all over again.  He reaches under the counter to grab the coins--there’s one right by his foot--when their hands brush against each other.

It wouldn’t have been a problem if their hands touched, but Jean’s hand brushes against the man’s suit sleeve, bombarding him with a heartbreaking image of the young man standing at a funeral, letting his tears rain down his cheeks in open mourning.  The image is strong, fresh even, and Jean’s had enough pain of his own,so he can’t handle seeing such a personal scene from a total stranger.  

Jean pulls himself away from his vision just in time to see that the stranger is staring at him, his big brown eyes giving him such a look of open concern that it’s impossible to handle, especially when Jean can see hints of redness around his eyes.

He needs to leave, so he does, faking an excuse and rushing away.  He probably hasn’t fooled Connie, but Jean can’t handle thinking about it right now.  

If his mother notices that he’s returned with a different kind of pizza than he promised, well, she doesn’t say anything.

* * *

The next day, Jean is surprised to see the young stranger again.  He looks a lot nicer now that he’s out of his depressing black suit, and Jean can get a decent look at him.  Why a stranger wants to talk to him so badly that he’d buy his coffee for him, he can’t quite understand though.

“I was hoping to run into you again.  There’s something I wanna talk to you about.” the stranger answers, though it's enough of an explanation for Jean to feel at ease.  he supplies honestly to the man beside him.  “Just a moment of your time.”

Jean follows the man outside the coffee shop, wary but intrigued.  He’s still not sure what to expect, and he’s always been cautious.  He slides his sweatshirt sleeves down over his fingertips to open the shop door.

“You had a vision, right?  When you touched my arm last night.”   


After a lifetime of feeling like he’s alone, Jean is never more caught off guard than when he hears the handsome stranger tell him, “I have visions too.”  

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (Eren has telekinesis that acts up when he's emotional, so that's why they ended up fighting at first.)
> 
> If you like this, please read more of my au!


End file.
